


Are You Trying to Deduce Me?

by merelypassingtime



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A Truly Sickening Number of References, Banter, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Love Letter to my First Fandom, M/M, locklock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 08:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16343570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/pseuds/merelypassingtime
Summary: When Tony throws a costume party, both he and Stephen end up coming as very different but very familiar versions of the same character.





	Are You Trying to Deduce Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Dawn/gifts).



> All the thanks in the word to no-reason-at-all and Grandeur_Raconteur for being incredibly kind enough to beta this for me.  
> And to https://vincent-cipher-cosplay.tumblr.com for making an amazing piece of cover art for this story! https://vincent-cipher-cosplay.tumblr.com/post/179206827814/for-day-1-of-the-ironstrange-advent-calendar-to  
> And special thanks to Black_Dawn for giving me the idea!

By most measurements the party was a huge success, but as Tony scanned the room looking for one particular face, he found himself wishing it hadn’t been so popular. The sea of masks and outlandish outfits made his task infinitely more challenging, as did the flashing spotlight, pounding music, and flood of happy party-goers who all seemed determined to stop him in his quest.

He was beginning to despair when a flash of red drew his gaze to the periphery of the party, and, while it didn’t turn out to be the Cloak he had hoped to see, it was almost as good. Wong was wearing a set of red and yellow robes not that different from his usual ones with only the blue arrow drawn on his head to identify him as an airbender. More importantly though, he was standing next to a tall man in a dark grey coat and blue scarf who Tony had to look twice at before he recognized as Stephen Strange. 

Clean shaven and without the silver at his temples, he looked like a completely different man; younger and softer somehow, but no less self-assured and remote. He also looked terribly bored, and Tony was afraid that he was on the verge of disappearing through one of his sparkly holes, depriving Tony of a chance to trade barbs with him as he’d been secretly looking forward to all day.

He started walking towards Stephen purposefully, dodging several people who tried to engage him in conversation, only slowing down to a more causal pace when he was a few feet from the sorcerer. 

With as much nonchalance as he could muster he leaned against the wall next to Stephen and smiled at both him and Wong as he asked, “Some party, eh?”

Wong glared silently back at him. Then with a terse nod to Stephen, he walked away towards the center of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, abashed. “I didn’t mean to chase him off.”

Stephen was quick to reassure him. “Aw, no. He was looking for an excuse to leave. He’s going to see if the DJ will play She Wolf by Shakira for him.” 

Tony laughed, but the chuckle died out quickly when Stephen didn’t join in. Maybe there was more to the grim-faced Wong then met the eye, Tony thought. He awkwardly cleared his throat and shrugged as he sought a change of subject. “So, I actually had a devil of a time finding you. For some reason I assumed you’d be wearing the Cloak.”

“You were looking for me? Should I be flattered?”

“Maybe a little, but don’t let it go to your head. Mostly, I was hoping you and Tate-”

“It is called the Cloak of Levitation, not Tate,” Stephen interrupted him.

Tony ignored the correction. “-like I said, I hoped you and Tate were going to be dressed as Superman. Between the tights and the flying, I figured that who be a great picture for my Instagram.”

“Is that the only reason?” Stephen drawled, every inch of his impressive height screaming his scepticism. “Well, sorry to disappoint. It’s a clever idea, but the Cloak of Levitation is out having its own fun.”

“What sort of fun? Or do I not want to know?”

“Oh, nothing sinister. I just draped a white sheet with fake eye holes over it. As we speak, it’s out ‘haunting’ the streets.”

At first puzzled, Tony’s expression quickly changed into a grin as he pictured the Cloak, dressed as a fake ghost but with the ability to actually fly. “That is just brilliant. I bet it’s having a blast terrorizing people.”

“Yeah,” Stephen agreed with a fond smile that melted Tony’s heart even though it wasn’t directed at him. “I’m already dreading trying to get the sheet back from it tomorrow.”

“Ah, it probably won’t be too bad. I bet it’ll be plenty tired by then. It’s good Halloween’s only once a year, it’d be tiring to bel preternatural and mysterious all the time. Wouldn’t it?” Tony asked pointedly.

When Stephen’s only reply was a roll of his eyes, Tony continued, “Now that I think about it, I’m surprised to see you here. Aren’t there lots of big spooky things happening tonight that you have to stop?”

“No, Halloween’s pretty quiet as a rule. I think the real interdimensional monsters think it’s gotten too commercial.”

Tony snorted, then put on an earnest face, holding one hand over his arc reactor under all its layers of clothes. “Well, I am truly honored that you gave up an evening of relaxation to come to my little soiree.”

“Yeah, well, who can resist free drinks and the opportunity to see one’s coworkers in costume.”

“I know, it’s illuminating. And a bit disturbing.”

“I know, right?!” Stephen said with more enthusiasm than Tony had seen from the usually reserved man. “I mean, you expect a slutty cat costume at every Halloween party, but honestly I was expecting it to be Loki, not Rogers.”

“To be fair, I think Loki would rather be a sexy cat. He looks mortified.”

“Yeah, how did Thor talk him into a theme costume? For that matter, how the hell do either of them know who the Super Mario Brothers even are?”

Tony smiled. “I suspect Peter had something to do with that. I swear that kid could sell timeshares on Titan just by flashing those puppy dog eyes.”

“I can’t argue with that. I spent last weekend helping him study for a biology test. Actually, where is Peter? I wanted to ask him how the test went.”

“Oh, he’s over there with Ned. Looks like they are plotting something with Shuri. I think we should be very afraid.”

“Mmm,” Stephen said, visibly searching the room. “I see Ned—those are some nice Jedi robes—but where’s… Oh.”

Tony looked away, a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“So, he came as Iron Man?”

“Yeah. Entirely his own idea. I tried talking him out of it.”

“And yet, that’s a suspiciously realistic looking Iron Man suit.” Turning to favor him with a sardonic look, Stephen demanded, “Tony Stark, did you build Peter an Iron Man suit?”

“Maybe,” Tony replied, not meeting Stephen’s eyes.

“And you had the temerity to tease Thor and Loki for being pushovers.”

Tony threw up his arms, surrendering the point. “What was I supposed to do? He asked if he could use my workshop and was building one on his own. I had to help!”

“Had to?”

“Yes, ‘had to.’” Tony repeated. “The kid’s a wiz at chemistry, but he’s not as good at mechanics. Without supervision he could have blown up my whole lab! I already lost one house…”

“How selfish of you. Though I suppose it does explain why your costume looks so thrown together.”

Tony squawked in indignation, “What do you mean? I worked hard on this costume.”

“Really?” Stephen asked, sounding genuinely startled. “You planned to come as, what? The Prince of the Hobos?”

“No!” Tony objected. When he continued it was in a British accent. “I am the world’s only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes!”

“The hell you are!”

“What? I am completely Sherlock Holmes.”

“No, you’re not. For a start, Holmes was a sharp dresser, and you look like you got dressed in the dark from the wardrobe of a high school production of My Fair Lady. And what the hell is that accent.”

“It’s British.”

Stephen replied, this time in a flawless British accent, “It bloody well isn’t. This, this is how you do a British accent.”

Tony shrugged, impressed and not a little turned on. Stephen’s already sexy voice was devastating in the cultured accent. “I can’t argue with you, that’s actually a lot more authentic than your usual accent.”

“That’s because, like you, I am Sherlock Holmes, but unlike you, I can pull it off.”

“Bullshit!” 

“Tsk, tsk,” Stephen said, wagging a finger at Tony. “You’re slipping back to American. You should have said, ‘Bollocks.’ And, I assure you I am Sherlock Holmes.”

“My good man,” Tony said, re-doubling his efforts on the accent. “You are wearing a suit and a trenchcoat! I mean, points for style and all but you look as Victorian as a rap music video.”

“It’s not a trenchcoat! It’s a Belstaff.”

“Oh, a Belstaff! How could I not immediately know that? It’s clearly a coat without compare. I’m actually amazed that Tate didn’t sulk over the competition.”

“The Cloak of Levitation,” Stephen said, emphasizing the name, “has great taste and helped me pick this coat out. And I am Sherlock, just an updated version of him for the twenty-first century.”

“Why would anyone want to update a classic?”

With all his considerable hauteur, Stephen replied, “Because great stories are timeless and deserve to be retold.”

With less hauteur, Tony snorted. “Yeah, if you say so, you posh bastard. You’re just too cheap and lazy to go out and find a real period accurate Holmes costume. You don’t even have the pipe or the deerstalker.”

“You know there is no mention of a deerstalker in any of the stories. That was a stereotype created by Sidney Paget, the illustrator.”

“So? It’s still expected.”

With a sigh, Stephen pulled a light grey hat out of one pocket. Examining it with evident disdain, he muttered, “What a stupid hat, it has two fronts,” as he settled it onto his mane of surprisingly curly hair. “There, are you happy?”

“Ecstatic. After all, if you are going to be Sherlock Holmes: you wear the damn hat.”

“You’re not wearing one.”

Tony wasn’t really sure why he’d thought Stephen wouldn’t notice that, but clearly it had been a forlorn hope. Shrugging it off he said, “I don’t have to, I have the rest of the outfit.”

“Like hell you do, Hobo King. You don’t have any Holmes pieces: the hat, the pipe, the magnifying glass, or even the dressing gown, and even what you do have is makeshift.”

“Makeshift! These are historically accurate materials, sewn by hand.”

“You sew too?”

“No,” Tony admitted grudgingly. “I got it on Etsy.”

“Well you should’ve returned it, that waistcoat is way too small.”

“Maybe I borrowed it from Watson. Anyway, you’re one to talk, that shirt is too small for you. Those buttons look like they are ready to pop.”

By this point they were standing face to face, arguing heatedly, the room of revelers around them forgotten. Tony leaned a bit forward, unintimidated by Stephen’s greater height, ready for the next salvo in their verbal battle.

What he was not ready for was Stephen blushing and looking down at his expensive Italian leather shoes. “Yeah, well, it has been a few years since I had any reason to wear it. I’ve put on a lot of muscle since then.”

That blush was a killer, Tony reflected. When he answered he was unable to keep the leer out of his voice. “Yeah, you have.”

Jerking his head back up, Stephen demanded, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just, you know…You look good. Really good,” Tony floundered under those intense, eyes and their unnameable color.

It must have been the right answer because the gaze softened, taking on a different sort of intensity. “Oh, mmm. Thanks. You do too. Look good, that is. Very good. Um, except that you look a bit like you got mugged on your way here.”

“It is a part of the costume!” Tony insisted, simultaneously relieved and disappointed to be back on the firm ground of bickering. “Holmes was a noted prize fighter, master of Bartitsu, and single stick fighting.”

“Oh, I was aware. Though I find myself more interested in how good you are at single stick fighting.” Stephen said, still in his British accent, his voice smoother than silk.

Was that flirting? Tony wondered, well, hoped really. Because it sounded a lot like flirting and he was more than happy to flirt back. Testing the water he said, “I can hold my own.”

“Just your own? That’s a pity.”

Oh, yeah. That was flirting alright. Tony turned his most charming smile on as he addressed the man still looming over him. “My dear Holmes, I do believe you are attempting to turn my head with your scandalous double entendre.”

“Call me Sherlock, please,” Stephen purred back, moving a hair closer to Tony as he said it. “And, you see but you don’t observe. I have not been trying to turn your head, I have been succeeding in doing so. The distinction is clear.”

“Well, you know it is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.”

“Ah, but once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth, right?” Resting a hand on Tony’s arm, Stephen leaned down to plant a long, slow kiss to Tony’s lips. When he pulled away he sounded gratifyingly breathless as he asked, “Does that satisfy your need for evidence?”

When Tony had his own breath back enough to answer, he did it with a wicked grin. “I cannot yet say. I never trust to general impressions, my boy, but concentrate upon details.”

“Well, then, by all means: You know my methods. Apply them for whatever further proof you require.”

“With relish, old boy,” Tony said. Twining his fingers into Stephen’s soft hair, Tony pulled him down into another kiss.

When they were finally forced to part for air again Stephen asked, “Well, what are your conclusions?”

“I deduce that you are not a single stick player, but rather that you prefer dual sticks.”

“Mmm, perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you’d go deeper.” A none too subtle squeeze of Tony’s ass made Stephen’s meaning clear.

“While nothing would give me more pleasure, I rather fear we have already gathered an audience,” Tony said, cutting his eyes to the side.

“Ah, I see.”Stephen said, after a glance confirmed the large group there watching. Tony regretted the step Stephen took away from him, but it was offset by the return of the blush as Stephen glared at the crowd. 

When Rhodey opened his mouth, obviously to make a teasing remark, Stephen snapped at him, “Oh, do close your mouth, Rhodes. You are about to lower the IQ of the whole party.”

Rhodey smiled and replied blandly, “I was just going to suggest you two get a room.”

“I wasn’t,” Loki said. “I was thoroughly enjoying the show.”

“Once again proving that mediocrity,” Tony nodded at Rhodey, “knows nothing higher than itself; but” and with a sweeping motion of his hand, he indicated Loki, “talent instantly recognizes genius.”

“Come on guys,” Bruce said. “There are kids here too, you know.”

Tony looked over to where Peter and Ned were on the other side of the room trying out the different features he’d had added to Peter’s Iron Man costume under Karen’s guidance. He sighed. “I am afraid the good doctor is right. Perhaps we should adjourn to a more private location.”

With a courtly bow, Stephen turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, “May I suggest we leave at once for my rooms?”

“You have rooms?” Tony asked, staying were he was.

Stephen stopped walking to look back at him.“Yes, the address is 177a Bleecker Street. Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient come anyway. But be warned, it could be dangerous.” And with a wink, he strode out of the room.

Tony stared after him for a moment, before muttering almost reverently, “Oh god, yes!” and following him out into the cold night of a newly born November.


End file.
